


Hell Hath No Fury (Like A Mother Sensing Threat)

by averzierlia



Category: STXI - Fandom
Genre: BAMF!Winona, Child Abuse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-27
Updated: 2010-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-17 16:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averzierlia/pseuds/averzierlia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i><b>Hell Hath No Fury (Like A Mother Sensing Threat)</b></i><br/>This is totally all <span><a href="http://cards-slash.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://cards-slash.livejournal.com/"><b>cards_slash</b></a></span>'s fault. Also, dedicated to her, because she wanted Winona beating down George's evil mother. Hope this fits the bill! Don't know if this hit all the points you gave me, but this is what my muse spun out. Beta'd by the lovely <span><a href="http://burningchaos.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://burningchaos.livejournal.com/"><b>burningchaos</b></a></span>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell Hath No Fury (Like A Mother Sensing Threat)

When she gets back from her latest mission (Ferenginar, some idiot had fucked with the warp cores on four of their new ships - causing radiation poisoning in the workers. Still no idea who did it, and if it was accidental or not, but not her job - Starfleet Intelligence can sort that shit out now that she’s fixed the containment fields.), the last thing she’s expecting is to find her youngest son, normally rowdy, hanging back instead of greeting her energetically like Sam does. Sam is the same as he always is when she gets back - babbling about school and what Uncle Frank let him do. But Jimmy is watching quietly, an unreadable look in his eyes.

“Jimmy?” she questions, letting go of Sam and holding out her hand. “Is something wrong?”

He shakes his head, making no move to come closer and take her offered hug. She sees an almost fading bruise on his cheek - yellow around the edges but still a deep shade of blue in the center.

“What happened to your face?” she’s sharper then she intended, she can tell by the flinch and the flash of something in his eyes has his expression hardens and he shifts back slightly.

“I fell.”

The bruise doesn’t look like anything he could have gotten from falling, nearly a perfect circle and high up on his cheek.

“Where did you fall?

“Grandma’s.” he says, still looking at her with defiance in his eyes.

“Grandma’s.” She repeats, feeling light headed. “Grandma Kirk’s?”

He nods, flicking his eyes to Sam and then back to her, his lips pressed tight together like he’s keeping words in, and it reminds her of George, except he was usually smiling when he did that, almost always in response to something she had done.

“Did you…” she pauses and licks her lips, doesn’t know exactly how to ask with the fear and stirrings of anger in her, “Did you fall any other times? Hurt anything else?”

He nods again, his gaze dropping.

“Can I see?” she asks carefully.

He pushes up his sleeve - wearing a long shirt in summer, how had she not noticed that right away, and she can see bruises on his upper arm, just above his elbow. Long and slender, there are four of them, and she can see part of a fifth curving around to the underside of his arm. She can’t breathe for a moment past the rage at seeing them.

“Jim, I need you to look at me.” she says willing him to meet her gaze. When she does, she looks into his eyes. “You didn’t get those from falling.” he flinches back again, and she wants to move forward but knows how bad an idea that would be right now, so she settles for shaking her head. “You’re not in trouble Jimmy. But I need you to tell me how you got those. Did Grandma…?”

He’s quick to voice a denial, and she knows, in that instant, that he’s lying. His gaze has dropped again, and he won’t look at her or his brother.

She looks at Sam, and he looks scared.

“Sam, did you see Jim fall?”

He shakes his head, gazing at the bruises on his younger brother’s arm. He’s ten now, and not stupid - he knows what kind of bruises hands make.

“He was in the kitchen with Grandma,” he says, quietly. “I was outside. She said he tripped over a chair.”

Winona stands, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She doesn’t like the look in Jimmy’s eyes as he looks at her, like she’s something to be afraid of. She keeps her voice steady as she asks where Frank is.

When she joins him in the kitchen, her boys hovering in the doorway behind her, he doesn’t even look up from the PADD he’s reading.

“Would you mind explaining to me exactly what you were thinking leaving my children over to that woman’s house?”

He keeps his eyes on whatever he’s reading as he answers. “She called about a week after you left, asked to see her grandchildren. Didn’t see any reason she couldn’t get to know them.”

She doesn’t remember moving, but now she’s slamming her fist down on the table in front of him, her face close to him. “Explain to me,” she hisses “how you got the impression she should be allowed near them when there are _bruises on my son_.”

He swallows and looks at Jim. “The kid fell, I don’t see what that has to do with anyt-” she cuts him off with a noise that is distinctly animal, and has to breathe deeply through her nose in an attempt to swallow her rage. Frank seems to realize his danger and keeps quiet.

She stands up and brushes her hands on her pants. “Get out of my house.” She says it calmly, meeting his eyes. It is a testament to how she must look that he takes her at her word and flees.

“Boys, will you be ok here for a little while? Mommy has to go take care of something.”

They nod, and she takes them at their word, probably the first time an adult has done so since she left. She turns and heads out of her house, aiming toward Laura Kirk’s house.

* * *

  
She doesn’t bother knocking, because it isn’t like that bitch would actually let her in if she knocked. She slams the door behind her, stalking toward the kitchen where she can hear someone moving around. It doesn’t take long for her late husband’s mother to make an appearance in the kitchen doorway, and when she sees Winona her hands go to her hips and she glares.

“Get out of my house!” she says loudly, her posture defensive.

Winona takes another step forward, rage boiling in her gut, and hits her. Hard, fist closed, knuckles jarring against the older woman’s cheekbone, in nearly the exact place there is a bruise on her baby boy’s face. Laura stumbles back her mouth dropping open and her hand flying to her face in shock.

“If,” Winona says, taking a step forward, her hands still curled into fists, “You _ever_ come near my sons again, I will kill you. They will be no body, they will never think to ask me where I was and if I know anything. You will just disappear, and _no one will ever find you._ ” She’s shaking with rage, wants nothing more than to make sure this woman never takes another breath, never has a chance to come near her sons again.

Laura obviously thinks she doesn’t mean it, because she’s straightening and glaring back at her. “I have a right to see my grandson.” she spits out the words, unheeding of the dangerous ground she’s treading.

The statement stops Winona cold, realization of why this happened sinking into her. Laura had never liked her - always thought she knew what was best for George, wanted him to stay in Riverside and follow the life she had planned out for him, keep him close. When George had chosen Winona over his mother’s plans, she had decided that Winona had ‘corrupted’ her precious boy and done her best to break them apart. It hadn’t worked, and when joining Starfleet - George’s idea, but she will always believe it was Winona’s - had gotten him killed, her hatred had solidified. Of course she hates Jim, the child her son died for. He would be a convenient target, and he looks exactly like her dead son - but he’s Winona’s boy, through and through.

She loses it. She doesn’t know what exactly she’s saying, but she’s screaming at this stupid woman who can’t see past her own idiocy to how her actions harm others. Whatever it is, it’s really getting her point across, because Laura looks terrified, eyes wide and face white. When she finally winds down, light headed, the other woman is nodding frantically. That’s when she hears the noise behind her. She whirls - and sees Jim.

He’s looking at them wide eyed from next to the couch. She experiences a moment of sinking fear before realizing that he doesn’t look scared, just surprised. She looks back over her shoulder to send one last glare at her husband’s mother before walking over to Jimmy and putting her hand on his shoulder and saying “Time to go, baby.”

He nods and lets her push him gently in the direction of the door. She keeps her hand on him, relieved that he’s ok with her touch. When they’re outside, he says quietly “She told me you didn’t want me because it’s my fault Dad is dead.” He’s not looking at her, his head down, and she can feel the tension in his shoulders.

“Oh Jimmy…” she stops walking and turns him to face her, crouching down so their gazes are level. “Do you want to hear the real story of the Kelvin?” she asks him, ignoring his again wide eyes. He nods and she squeezes his shoulders gently. “The auto-pilot got damaged when we were shot at - the only way the escape pods could get away is if someone stayed on the bridge and piloted the ship manually to distract the vessel that was attacking us. Your daddy was the acting Captain - it was his responsibility to do that. But that’s not why he did it baby, he did it because he loved you very much, and he wanted the pods to get away so you could live.” Her eyes are watery - she doesn’t like to think about the Kelvin often, because it makes her ache with the loss of George. But her son needs to hear this - needs to understand that his father loved him, that she loves him.

She can see him thinking, mulling over the information she gave him, comparing it to Starfleet’s glorified version of George’s actions. When he finally nods, she exhales in relief. Smiling, and rising to her feet, she playfully inquires “I thought I told you to stay home?”

He checks her expression, and then grins brightly. “Then I would have missed the good stuff.”

She laughs, and takes him home.


End file.
